


Across The Room, I Saw You

by bazypitchandsimonsnow (ChessPargeter)



Series: Signs of Affection Prompts [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Dancing, First Meetings, Hook-Up, Human Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 10:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/bazypitchandsimonsnow
Summary: Baz has been dragged to a nightclub by his cousin. He meets a mysterious brave man there.Based on "moan" and "love bite" request.





	Across The Room, I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first of the affection requests! It became way longer than I thought it would be lol. Just be warned that there's heavy making out and like a lot of skin touching but nothing beyond that, I promise. So yeah, just wanted to make sure y'all know what they're getting into. Enjoy! :)

**Baz**

I don’t understand why I’m here. The whole point of this event is to “meet your future fellow uni students.” But we’re in a bloody night club, so it’s too dark to see and too loud to talk to anyone. No wonder it’s student organized. It’s just an excuse for recently legal idiots to get plastered.

“Hey!” Dev shouts over the thumping techno. “Want some tequila?”

I raise the now half empty flask of vodka I snuck in. “I’m fine with this.”

He sighs heavily. “You’re supposed to be having fun, y’know.”

“I am certainly having fun. Standing against sticky wall while buzzed on my cheap vodka, definitely not wishing to be literally anywhere else.”

My cousin levels a glare at me, which I meet unflinchingly. He dragged me to this, he gets to suffer through my sarcasm. He huffs with exasperation.

“Fine, stay a wallflower. Maybe a new friend will just wander up to you.”

“I don’t need new friends. New books would be nice.”

“Ugh, whatever, nerd. I’m going to dance.”

“You can’t dance!” I shout after him.

He flips me two fingers before melting back into the crowd. I spin the metal bottle in my hand before slipping it into my jacket. I’m not sure why Dev, or anyone, finds this enjoyable. I’ve been just standing here forever and I’m so bloody tired. I would prefer to be back at Fiona’s and curled up with a book. And when I get to uni, I won’t be partying like all the other first years. I’ll actually be studying. None of this ‘drink till you pass out, snog everyone you see’ nonsense. School will be my number one priority.

“Hey, she said no, arsehole!”

My head turns toward the very loud voice. It’s coming from nearby.

“Oh fuck off with that ‘she wanted it’ bollocks,” he shouts. “She’s fucking crying! Piss off before I throttle you!”

Finally, I settle on a man close to the bar. I can only see him from the back. He’s broad shouldered, shown by his tight green shirt. And his hair is a mess of wild bronze curls with the undersides shaved. It looks sort of...cute. The man he’s talking to (who looks like an arsehole in the v-neck and oakley sunglasses) has got his hands up in the air in surrender. He slowly backs up.

“Yeah, that’s right, walk away, dickhead!” The cute stranger flips two fingers to him, then puts a hand on the girl’s back. “You okay?” The woman nods. “Good to hear it. You want the bartender to call you an uber or something?” She nods again. The man quietly talks to the woman behind the bar.

When the two women are gone, mystery hero against the black table and sighs. I feel the urge to walk towards him, but I’m scared. Meeting someone new is always scary, and it’s even worse when they’re cute looking and brave. So maybe it’s the vodka, or maybe I’m feeling truly brave for once, but before I know it, I’m walking.

“That was quite impressive,” I say smoothly.

He turns towards me, and I have to stop myself from gasping. It’s not like he’s a Greek God or anything, but he’s still really hot. Broad, muscular, dressed in ratty jeans and red high tops that he somehow makes work. His skin is another shade of gold and covered with the most beautiful freckles and moles. He stares at me with wide blue eyes. They’re not an interesting shade, just simply...blue. And I’m absolutely hypnotised.

“Huh?” he replies dumbly.

“What you just did there, it was very impressive.”

“Oh! Uh, it was nothing. Just being a nice guy.”

“Well, most people aren’t that brave.”

He smiles, a corner of his lip pulled up. It’s infuriatingly adorable. “Thanks.” He leans back on the bar and sighs, head falling back. “Fuck, I could use a drink after that. Wish this place wasn’t so bloody expensive.”

I smirk, then pull my flask out. “Want some?”

The man’s eyes go wide. “Uh, sure. What’s in it?”

“Vodka. The shite kind though, sorry.”

“Hey, it’s free. I’ll take what I can get.” He accepts it and deftly unscrews the cap, then takes a small swig. His face adorably scrunches up, like he just ate sour candy. “Dear lord,” he coughs, “that is total shite.”

I chuckle and shrug. “I spend most of my money on books, so apologies but there’s little left for liquor.”

He chuckles as well, shaking his bouncy curls. “Understandable.” He takes another sip then passes it back to me. I’ve already had enough, so I just slip it back into my coat.

“So what brings you here?” he shouts, leaning in closer. (Even standing right next to each other we need to practically shout.) “Not exactly somewhere bookworms hang out.”

I scoff. “Certainly not. I was dragged here by my cousin for our ‘university mixer.’ Though I haven’t talked to anyone from my uni yet so I’m not sure how successful it is.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “You going to Kingston?”

I raise a brow right back. “Yes.”

“Huh,” the stranger chuckles. “What a coincidence, so am I.”

I can’t help but let out an amused sound. “Wow, coincidence indeed. What program are you doing?”

“Social work.”

“So you’re noble in your actions and learning. Interesting.”

He chuckles, pushing a curl behind his ear. A white strobe flashes across his face. And for a second, I think I see a blush, but soon it’s too dark again to tell.

“Y-Yeah, I guess,” he says. “What about you? What are you studying?”

“Economics.” 

“Ooh, future fancy banker?”

I roll my eyes, hoping he can see it the relative darkness. “Well, my father is hoping I’ll become a fancy banker, but I’m not sure. I just like maths.”

“Understandable. You excited for uni?”

“Yes, I think it will be interesting studies.”

“Is that all you’re going to uni for? Learning?”

I turn to him, my expression somewhere between annoyed and confused. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but university  _ is  _ a school.”

The man huffs, blowing bronze strands off his forehead. “Yeah, of course I know that. I just mean, I’m partly going to uni for the whole experience, y’know? Being in a new city, living mostly on your own, meeting new people. It’s the start of a new life and shit.” He looks down and rubs his neck. “I don’t know, I guess it sounds dumb when I say it. Uni is supposed to be for learning like you said.”

I immediately feel bad. When I throw a sarcastic remark at Dev or Niall, they just roll their eyes or throw one back. But this man obviously feels embarrassed. And I don’t like that I’m the cause of it.

“No,” I say firmly, “you’re right. Uni is about the experience as well as the studies. I guess that’s why I’m living on campus. My father wanted me to live with my aunt but I said no, because I wanted to live on my own.”

Stranger immediately perk up. He nods vigorously. “Yeah, exactly! That’s why I’m living on campus too! When you moving in?”

“Tomorrow, officially. I put my stuff there today though. Hopefully my roommate won’t mind.”

“Have you met him?”

“No. I was sent his profile but I haven’t had a chance to look at it thoroughly. I’ll meet him tomorrow so it doesn’t matter.” I just hope he isn’t weird. I mean, what normal person is named Simon Snow? 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, almost sounding wistful. “Hope he’s nice though. And he won’t mind lots of Doctor Who stuff.”

I snort out a laugh, but not in derogatory manner. He sounds adorably enthusiastic. “You’re a fan, I assume?”

“Totally! Are you?”

“No, but...I’m open to learning.” Honestly, I just want him to keep talking to me.

“Oh man, you’re missing out, man! The first few seasons are the best with Eccleston, Tennant, and early Smith.”

I shuffle towards him, and realise he’s done the same. We’ve both unciously moved closer. “Hm, interesting. Maybe you can show a few episodes some time.”

It slips out of my mouth before I realise I’ve said it. I feel the colour creeping up my cheeks and I pray it’s dark enough that the cute stranger doesn’t see it. I also hope he doesn’t just leave.

“Yeah,” he laughs, and I swear I can hear a strain of nervousness. “That’d be really cool. You should stop by my room at some point during the year.”

I flick my eyes over to him, and am surprised to find him looking back. But I quickly look back at my feet in an attempt to mask my anxiety. I’m not used to showing my fear, or any emotion period. The urge to hide overwhelms me.

“So where are you from? London?” I say smoothly, my nerves thankfully hidden. The topic seems simple enough, and I do genuinely want to know where this amazing man comes from.

“Nah,” he replies, also sounding less nervous. “I’m from Lancashire. Thought the accent would’ve given that away.”

I chuckle. “Well, I didn’t want to assume.”

“Well thanks for that.” He knocks his elbow against mine, and I swear a jolt of electricity spreads through my whole body. “What about you huh? Where do you come from? I’m guessing, Buckingham Palace?”

I roll my eyes, and he laughs. (It’s a wonderful sound.) “Not far off, really. I hail from Hampshire. Specifically, a large old house filled with old stuffy rich people.”

He snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

My brow lifts almost automatically. “Should I be insulted?”

“No, it’s just- You look and talk like someone with money. Though you don’t seem like a total arsehole, so that’s good.”

My face scrunches together. I’m not sure whether to be complimented or insulted. “Thank you?”

He groans, running a hand down his face. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m shit with words.”

“That’s going to cause you some trouble as a social worker.”

He chuckles sadly, running a hand through his bronze curls. “Yeah, I’m aware. I’m hoping uni can help me out with that.”

I smirk, feeling a little bit of confidence bubble up. (Or maybe it’s exhaustion drunkenness, or regular vodka drunkenness, I don’t know at this point.) “Well, if you ever need help, I’d be persuaded to talk to you again.”

Stranger tenses for a second. I can’t tell whether it’s from excitement or fear or maybe even both. My heart speeds up when I notice him shuffling minutely closer. There’s only a few millimeters between us.

“T-Thanks,” he stutters adorably. “I...I might take you up on that.”

I both hate and love the way my stomach drops out at his words. It gives me hope, which is wonderful but dangerous thing. Slowly, as my heart beats out of my chest, I start to reach towards his hand. It looks almost perfect for holding. Just another inch...

_ WAAAAAN! WAN AN AAAAAH! _

We both jolt at the sudden sound. It’s not louder than the club, but loud enough for us to hear very well. My hand immediately glues itself to my side as I look at floor.

“What the fuck,” the stranger grumbles. He rummages in his jean pocket and extracts a banged up knock off smartphone. He frowns (with a very cute pout) at the screen. 

“Ugh, Penny, you don’t need to check on me every half hour,” he groans, obviously to himself. My stomach drops again, but this time in defeat. I know what a girl’s name usually means, especially when she’s checking up on someone. Guess my small chance is dead.

He types something rapidly on his phone. I take another small swig of vodka.

“Honestly,” he sighs, “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself!”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I understand.”

He looks at me with wonder and confusion. “Really?”

“Yeah. My ex-boyfriend was overprotective too. He thought I wasn’t safe staying out anywhere late. That’s why we broke up.”

The man’s brows shoot up to his hairline. “Ex-boyfriend?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Yes, I’m gay. Is that some sort of problem?”

He goes wide eyed. I wish he didn’t look like a cute deer. “Oh no! No no, of course not. It’s just, I mean, that’s similar, but just like, not the same?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, Penny is overprotective, but she’s not my  _ girlfriend _ .” He makes a childishly disgusted face, tongue sticking out. “Blech, that’s gross. She’s been my best friend since we were 11. And she’s got a boyfriend. They live together near campus. I’ve been staying with them until I get around to moving into the dorms. So, yeah, she’s worried because she likes to pretend she’s my Mum. It’s great and awful.”

Wow, I feel very embarrassed. I hope the heat in my cheeks isn’t transferring to a blush. “Oh,” I say with a slight stutter. “I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry.”

His face melts into a lopsided smile and shrugs. “It’s alright, I understand.” He finishes whatever text he was writing, then turns his whole body towards me, leaning one elbow on the bar. “So you’re gay?”

With my pulse still hammering, I angle my body as well. We’re closer than we have been all this time, which is still too far for me if I’m being honest. “Yes, I think I’ve already made that clear.” I arch a brow. “Are you gay?”

Surprisingly, he shrugs. (This doesn’t seem like a shrug worthy topic.) “I’ve never thought about it too much, but I think I am. At least a part of me is.”

“Oh, really? What makes you say that?” I try to hide the way my voice is straining.

“Because.” He leans in closer. I can smell my vodka on his breath, along with something fruity and sweet. Maybe cherries? I don’t care, because this beautiful man is so close to me and my whole world has condensed down to his lips less than an inch away from mine. “I find you super hot, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to ask you out ever since you approached me.”

I gulp down the lump that has formed in my throat. That dangerous hope swells to twice what it was before. He smiles goofily, and I can definitely see his blush this time. I’m sure my own face matches his.

“Well,” I say as quietly as I can among the noise, “if you asked, I believe I would say yes.”

“Is that a yes?”

“You haven’t asked me yet.”

He grins even wider, and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something. But suddenly, his head whips around towards the dance floor. He gasps and smiles like a kid in a candy store.

“Oh my god I love this song!”

I huff, slightly disappointed I didn’t an actual question. But suddenly, a thought crosses my mind, and a sly smirk follows. I hold out my hand with my palm up. It’s a gesture I learned from those stupid ballroom dancing classes my father made me take.

“May I have this dance then?”

He looks at my hand with an amused but questioning expression. “I hope you don’t plan to waltz, because this really isn’t the song for it.”

“Believe me, I’m not thinking of anything that proper.”

He smiles like mischievous sunshine, and takes my hand as we race off into the crowd.

It takes some maneuvering through throngs of sweaty dancing people to find an open space. I just let the mystery man guide me until we stop. He spins on his toes to face me. His happy face is illuminated by flashing greens and pinks and blues. And he looks like a fucking fever dream.

He starts to move side to side, sort of with the beat. It becomes immediately apparent he actually doesn’t know how to dance. But his enthusiasm is adorable. I’m not sure how to dance in a nightclub either, but I’ve seen movies, and I’m a musician who knows how to follow a beat. Slowly, I raise my arms in the air and swing my hips. With every pounding of the bass I snap to move the other side. It’s an easy enough pattern to follow. Thump, snap, thump, snap.

I look up, and see that the beautiful stranger staring at me. He’s barely moving anymore, just watching me. I feel an incredibly strong surge of power and desire that I’ve never experienced before. I want him to keep staring at me. But more than that, I want him to move with me.

Cautiously, I reach forwards towards his waist. His eyes widen but he doesn’t pull away. So I step forward and place my hands firmly on his hips, leaving almost no space between us. He just keep staring at me with wide eyes and open lips (mouth breather). I bring my lips closer to his flushed ear.

“Put them on my shoulder,” I whisper-yell.

He nods dumbly, then tentatively puts his hands on my shoulders. I smile at him, and he smiles back. I pull his waist closer so we’re pressed against each other. He gasps, arms slithering to wrap around my neck. His fingernails dig into my skin. Our hips move in sync as we breathe heavily. I’ve never done it before, but I’m pretty sure we’re grinding. Maybe not full on, but certainly something close. Is it good? I don’t know without any initial point of comparison. All I know is that every point of contact we have makes my skin feel like it’s on fire, and when I look into his plain blue eyes, I never want to look away. What’s incredible, is that he’s looking at me in the same way.

My gaze flicks down to his open mouth, then back up to his captivating eyes. It’s a silent question I hope he understands. He’s still staring at me like a blushing deer in the headlights. Fuck, I really want to kiss him. That’s the only thing I need right now. One kiss, that’ll be more than enough.

Then  _ he  _ kisses  _ me _ .

He surges forward and captures my lips between his. I gasp in surprise, but quickly melt into it. A shuddering sigh escapes through my nose. I hold his hips as tightly as possible. His hands snake up into my hair. Light is exploding behind my eyelids. When he clenches his fist, I unashamedly moan into his mouth. It feels too incredible not to. He’s done this before, and he’s good at it. He’s doing a nice thing with his chin that makes all my thoughts melt away. Everything, from the entire room to his fingers in my hair, feels unbelievably hot. It’s phenomenal.

We pull back only when breathing becomes difficult. We’re panting while staring into each other’s eyes. His fingers are still in my hair and I’m still clutching his hips.

“You wanna go back to your place?” He blurts out. My eyes get very big, and so does his. The flush on his cheeks reaches down to his neck. “I-I mean, I haven’t moved into my dorm yet, and I  _ really  _ want to go home with you, but Penny will be super pissed if I bring someone. So if it’s okay with you, I think we could-”

I kiss him again, just briefly to shut him up. It’s obviously effective because he stops talking. I grin at his flushed dazed face. I’ve never done this before either, bringing a stranger home. But you know, maybe it’s the vodka talking, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline, but I want to be a bit reckless. At least, I want to be reckless with him.

“Yes,” I say firmly, “let’s get out of here.”

I take his hand and drag him through the crowd.

* * *

 

We luckily find a cab pretty quickly, sliding into the backseat. I tell the driver to go to the university dorm. (Aunt Fiona wouldn’t appreciate me bringing home a bloke either.) I plan to stay quiet, let my excitement stay dormant until we reach my room. But then I feel a hand on my knee, and I don’t need to look to know whose it is of course. It travels up farther to rest on my thigh. I can’t help but lean into his touch, body shifting closer.

“We should wait,” I whisper, but can’t help but chuckle as well. 

“I’m not patient,” he whines.

Something warm pushes into my neck and I inhale sharply. Every one of his hot breaths make me shiver. When he kisses under my jaw, I barely stifle a moan. Christ, he’s good with his mouth. He moves up and down ar a maddingly slow pace. It feels like I’m melting into the car seat, both from the heat of his lips and a little from tiredness. (It’s late and I’ve been standing for hours, sue me.) But I’m suddenly jolted out by a sharp pain just above my shoulder. My eyes fly open as I gasp.

“Sorry!” he says rapidly, pushing himself against the other side of the car. “Sorry, sorry I got carried away.”

I touch the spot on my neck and hiss. I may have had a few casual hookups and one serious boyfriend (and that only lasted a month) but I know a hickey when I feel one. Another new experience. And...definitely not an unpleasant one. Though I pity the poor cabbie who is just trying to do his job.

“It’s fine,” I chuckle, taking his hand. “Let’s just save that for when we get back to the room.”

He laughs happily, head tossed back over the seat. Jesus, he’s gorgeous. The moonlight and street lights make his hair light up in silvers and yellow. He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I’m glad, because I really don’t want him to let go. We stay companionable silence, hands linked. I try to ignore the recurring exhaustion I can feel creeping into my bones, focusing on how his thumb trace the bones of my fingers.

Before I know it, we’re at the dorm. It’s an ugly, blocky, brick building. But I really don’t care, because the handsome man I met a bloody night club is dragging me towards it. I leave cash for the cabbie (plus a generous tip for putting up with us.) He smirks and winks at me. I can almost hear the  _ “have fun”  _ he’s most certainly thinking.

“C’mon, c’mon,” my gentleman caller whines. (Oh my god, I don’t know his name. I’m about to hook up with a guy who’s name I don’t know. What am I doing?!)

He starts kissing my neck again as we stumble our way into the building, and when he bites my earlobe, my eyes nearly roll back in my head. (Right. This is what I’m doing.)

It takes a lot of effort to simultaneously snog and get to the elevator. Our hands are all over each other as we stumble into the open metal doors. He presses me against the opposite wall and kisses me furiously. His tongue is a slow, wet heat invading my mouth and fogging up my brain. I groan, placing my hand on his lower back to better snake up his shirt. And the way he moans directly into my mouth sends a zap straight down my spine.

The dings tells me we’re on the third floor. I push him out. He nearly trips over the gap, giggling against my lips. I have to (unfortunately) pull away from his expert kisses to try to find my room. But his neck kisses are  _ really  _ distracting. We giggle as I fumble my keys.

“You’re not good at this,” he teases, breathing against my ear.

“I  _ am  _ a bit drunk,” I chuckle in return.

“What a coincidence, so am I.”

“Well, hopefully you’re not drunk enough for this.”

I grab his shirt and drag him into my room. He kicks the door behind us while chasing after my mouth. We kick off our shoes and stagger in the room. He pushes off my coat, leaving it in a pool on the ground. I have a vague idea of where the bed is, but I forget where my stuff is, because we both trip over my bags.

“Ow!” he hisses and he stubs his toe on my violin case.

“Sorry,” I reply.

He pulls back to smile, both happy and playful, then pushes on my chest. I move backwards until my knees hit something. I fall backwards onto my bed. He looms over me with his impish grin.

“Make it up to me.”

God, this man is incredible.

He leans down and kisses me again. I scramble back, pulling him with me. He ends up on all fours above me. I keep one hand in his bronze curls and the other trailing up and down his spine. Occasionally, he pulls away slightly and makes me reach for his mouth. And I do, every time. I feel like I’m melting into this shitty twin mattress. I wish I could say it was all from my new friend’s incredible snogging ability, but the long night is catching up with me a bit. The vodka isn’t helping either. I push those feelings down again, because he’s back on my neck. He traces his tongue under my jaw, and I dig my fingernails into his scalp and shoulders. I moan as he adds another hickey to my neck.

“Christ,” I breathe out. I push his shirt up farther. He leans back on his knees and whips it off. And...oh my god, he’s so beautiful. A long strong torso made of tawny skin and freckle constellations. I slowly trail my hands up his sides. He leans down again to capture my mouth. My fingers dance across his ribs. He pulls back a bit to moans again-

Wait that’s not a moan.

He’s trying to stifle to make it  _ sound _ like a moan, but it’s quite clearly a yawn. His face adorable tenses up as he keeps his lips together. I lean up both my elbows.

“You tired?” I ask, both genuinely concerned and amused.

“No,” he says, but he’s pouting and rubbing his eye.

“I would strongly disagree, considering you just yawned.”

“Ugh,” he groans as he hangs his head. “Sorry. I’ve been up since 4am because Penny’s cat decided to knead my leg. I really like you and I want to be sexy and shit but I think my day is finally catching up with me. Sorry, sorry, I’ll just go.” He reaches down to pick up his shirt, but I grab his wrist to stop him. He looks at me curiously.

“It’s alright, I understand. I’m tired too. So...how about you stay here?”

He smiles softly. “Really?”

I pull him closer. “Yeah, really. I’m not going to kick you out just because you’re too exhausted to snog me. I’m not a monster.”

He smiles wider, and it really is like looking into the sun. “Okay.” He drops his shirt and sits back on his heels. “So, can I stay here, or am I banished to your mystery roommates bed?”

I scoff and roll my eyes. “Well, personally, I’d much prefer you stay here, but it’s up to you.”

He doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he simply crawls up next to me. I shift to the side a little to give him room. With some maneuvering on the tiny mattress, I end up on my back with his head on my chest. He’s unbelievably warm (christ, he really is like the sun.) But thankfully I run quite cold. In a weird way, we match.

Sitting up slightly, I grab the thin sheet bunched up at the end of the bed to drape over us for a semblance of modesty. Which seems sort of pointless when one of us is shirtless. But I like having it. Not-a-total-stranger-now sighs and snuggles into my chest. And my heart certainly skips a beat.

“Sleep well,” I sigh, finally surrendering to my tiredness.

He hums in approval, arms tightening around my stomach. “You’re nice.”

I scoff, blowing hair out of my face. “Hate to tell you, but no one’s ever associated me with ‘nice’ before.”

“They’re wrong,” he mumbles.

Before I can question that further, his breathing even outs, indicating he’s set the record for fastest sleep ever. I sigh and play with a curl on his forehead. I vaguely realise I should’ve asked his name before allowing him to literally sleep on top of me. There’s a small chance he’ll kill me when he wakes up. If so, he’s a very strange serial killer who talks to, dirty dances with, snogs senseless, then falls asleep on his targets. But when I look at his sleepy face, all soft freckled gold, those thoughts go away. I think this man, whatever his name may be, is quite wonderful. And I like him a lot.

I hold him tighter, and let myself drift off to sleep.

* * *

 

The sun trickles in through the tiny window. I scrunch my eyes in a weak attempt to block it out. I don’t want to get up. I’m tired and my head hurts a bit. Plus, I’m really warm. Why am I so warm? I run cold.

“Too early,” the head on my chest grumbles.

Oh, right. That’s why.

He looks absolutely ridiculous. His hair is a mess, he’s drooling slightly on me (why is that gross  _ and  _ cute?), and he’s still wearing his ratty jeans. All this while he’s wrapped around me like a boa constrictor, one leg thrown over mine and strong arm clutching my torso. It’s not exactly comfortable, but...I really don’t want him to let go.

“Good morning,” I sigh.

The man using me as a pillow slowly lifts his head. He blinks blearily with his gorgeous plain blue eyes. The sunlight makes his messy bronze hair shine gold. He looks me up and down while I try not to focus on the little bit of crusted drool on the corner of his mouth (it’s so cute, so it’s very difficult.)

“So,” he says, “last night wasn’t some weird drunk dream?”

I scoff, pulling at my t-shirt collar to better emphasize the two large hickeys I can still feel on my neck. “Unless I can magically manifest mouth shaped bruises, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a dream.”

He goes wide eyed and his entire face flushes. “Oh. Yeah...sorry, I guess I was excited.”

“Don’t apologize, I’m not complaining. I was excited too.”

I like the way his face suddenly relaxes, morphing into a lopsided smile. I like him more when he’s relaxed and not worrying. And I’m glad I’m the cause. He pushes up on his forearms so we’re only a breath apart. “How about now? Still excited?”

I chuckle, trying to hide how eagerly my eyes roam up and down his half naked body that’s literally  _ right  _ on top of me. “I think so. Though I would like confirmation.”

He grins and pushes himself even closer. My eyes flutter shut as our noses touch. I tilt up to kiss him and...

_ WAAAAAN! WAN AN AAAAAH! _

“Mother of God,” he groans, hanging his head. Sadly, he pulls away and takes his phone out of his pocket. “Hello? Oh, hi, Pen. Yes, I’m alive, obviously. I was just...busy last night.” He puts a on the phone and mouths  _ “sorry” _ . I just smile and reply  _ “it’s fine.”  _ He smiles in return.

“Yeah, Pen, I still here. Hang on.” He stands up and walks to the bathroom. When the door closes, I sigh and fall back on the bed, limbs spread out like a starfish. Christ, I feel gross. I’m still wearing my sweaty bar clothes, I’m slightly hungover, and my body aches. Yet...all of that is sort of outweighed by the electric sensation still lingering on my lips. I really hope this wasn’t just a one off. Or at least, we can pick up where we left off.

The bathroom door swings open with a crash, causing me to jolt up. Mystery man (I should really learn his name) is sighing into his phone.

“Fine, Penny, fine, I’ll be there soon, just calm down. For the last time, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t mean to scare you. Yeah, love you too, bye.” He groans as he hangs up. He gives me a withering look. “She’s overprotective.”

“You said.”

“She wants me to come to her place immediately. We gotta start moving my stuff into the dorm today and she, I quote, ‘refuses to lug all your stupid junk’ on her own. So I guess I need to get going.”

I sigh, trying not to sound too disappointed. “Understood. Here, you’ll need this.” I toss his shirt, and he catches it with one hand. Wow, some reflexes. Intriguing.

“Thanks.” I catch my last glimpse of him before he slips on the shirt. He leans casually against the doorframe, arms lazily over his chest. “So, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

I stand up, thumbs hooked in my jean pockets. “Certainly. Feel free to memorise my room number before you go.”

“Oh, yeah, will do!” He strolls towards the door, and of course just as he’s opening I remember I  _ still  _ don’t know his name. I speed walk after him.

“By the way, I forgot to ask, what’s-”

“Holy shit!”

I stop in my tracks. He’s gaping at my front door. Why? I’m not sure. It’s just a plain door with the room number.

“What?” I chuckle. “Have you never seen a door before?”

He turns to me with wide, confused eyes. “This is room 361?”

I look at him with my own perplexed expression. “Yes, it says so right there. Do you plan on coming back soon.”

He blinks at me a few times, his arms falling to his sides. “Uh, yeah, I do actually. Cause...this is my room too.”

For a second, everything sort of shifts sideways. I hate to admit it, but I stumble slightly. We stare at each other a for long moment. I take him in all over again. Not as some random guy in a bar, but as my  _ roommate _ . (Oh my god, what the hell is going on?) I point a finger at him.

“ _ You’re  _ Simon Snow?!”

He points right back. “ _ You’re  _ Tyrannus Grimm-Pitch?!”

I sigh heavily, hanging my head. “Okay, first of all, it’s pronounced ‘tee-ruh-nuss’, I’m not a dinosaur. And secondly, please don’t call me that. I go by my middle name.”

The stranger- Well, Simon (Dear Lord this is insane) raises one brow. “Which is...?”

“Basilton. Baz for short.”

“That’s not much better than Tyrannus.”

“I’m aware, but at least it’s slightly less pretentious.”

“True.”

We go silent again, just staring at each other. Simon’s closed the door, now leaning against it. Christ, what a way to meet the guy you’re supposed to live with for a year. Someone I’m supposed to be friends with at best and tolerate at worst. Romance would probably overcomplicate everything, right? I try to dampen down my attraction but it simply refuses to go away. No matter how hard I try, every time I look at his bronze curls and blue eyes my heart threatens to leap out of my chest. Holy shit, I’m so fucked.

“So...” I start, “does this mean that, this, is over?”

Simon inhales sharply. My worry builds and builds with every passing silent second. I don’t know what I want him to say, honestly. His eyes drag over me as he bites his bottom lip.

“Um, do you...want it to be?” he replies shakily.

I seriously consider that question. The self protective/self destructive part of me wants to say yes. Just cut my losses and hide behind the cold, sarcastic demeanor I’ve used for years. Then there’s no chance of hurt or heartbreak. But I can also still feel Simon’s mouth on my neck (almost literally), and his hands in my hair, and the sensation of his skin under my hands, and every kind word we shared. And...I really don’t want to lose that.

Fuck it.

I lean forward in a silent question, and when Simon doesn’t pull back, I press our lips together. Simon sighs into my mouth. I feel his fingers hook into my belt loops, pressing our hips flush together like in the club. Even without the adrenaline high and vodka, it feels fucking incredible. Yeah, I don’t want to let this go. Quite the opposite actually; I desperately want to see where it goes.

We separate but not that far. Only about half an inch sits between our faces. I watch with delight as Simon’s face breaks into a smile.

“So, I take that as a no?” he whispers.

“No,” I reply quietly. “I want to as long as you do.” I pull back a little more, so he can better see my mischievous grin. “And I have to say, we’re off to a pretty good start for roommates.”

Simon barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “I guess you could say that. But y’know, I never did ask you out properly. So, wanna get coffee later?”

“I’d like that. Though...” I press a hand to the small of his back, bringing our bodies even closer. “We  _ could  _ finish what we started last night.”

He smirks, fingers curling in my loops even tighter. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“You’ll soon learn I’m a perfectionist, Snow. I don’t like leaving things half done.” I lean down and kiss his neck, just like he did to me before. I can hear and feel him moan, fingers digging into my hips.

“Mm, I prefer you call me Simon,” he sighs.

I pull back. His face is bright red, his eyes half lidded. “Well then, Simon,” I muse, “think you could spare an hour?”

“An hour? Think you’re that good, Basilton?”

I flash a shark like grin. “Oh, I know I’m that good. I’m a football player, my stamina is quite impressive.”

His blush somehow spreads even more. “O-Oh, okay, uh...yeah. Penny’s gonna be pissed though...”

“Could you let her know you’ll be a bit late? I can come help with your stuff after, as an apology.”

“Hm, I suppose.”

I sigh, pulling out of his embrace. “If you have to go, I understand. No pressure. Please excuse me though,” I promptly throw off my shirt, and Simon’s eyes pop out of his skull, “I should really change out of these disgusting bar clothes.”

I turn on my heels. My motivation for the sudden shirtlessness is twofold. Of course I want Simon to stay, and this is both persuasion and teasing, but I also really do need to change out of these stinky clothes. I don’t expect it to actually work. Simon will probably leave, because his friend does sound scary.

So what I hear is quite surprising.

“Hey, Pen, it’s me. So I’ve just met my roommate and we’re getting along really well so we’re gonna...hang out for awhile. I’ll be over in about an hour. He promised to help us to apologize for the inconvenience. Yeah, he’s pretty great. Thanks for understanding. Love you too.”

I laugh loudly. “Well, who’s the eager one no-”

My words are cut off as Simon spins me around and kisses me hard. I giggle against his mouth for a few seconds, but that quickly turns into groans as he pushes me towards the bed. Our hands are all over each other, scratching skin and desperately pulling at clothes. We’re acting like over enthusiastic teenagers, all desire but no thought. But I decide to just surrender to the wonderful sensations. Like Simon’s lips on my neck, then my collarbone, then lower, and lower...

Oh, I’m certainly living a charmed life.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this was just an excuse for some heavy snowbaz snogging and adorableness lol. I had fun with it. Hope you enjoyed it. If you want to request a fic, go [here ](https://bazypitchandsimonsnow.tumblr.com/post/173489875528/signs-of-affection-romance-prompt-meme). I've got 5 already so idk how long it'll take but I'll do my best! Thanks for reading :D


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